I sit in the dark

flipping through cable channels.

Witches of Breastwick?!

So last night I was switching through the cable channel and came across Witches of Breastwick. I, being pure of mind and having a faint interest in geography, tried to visualize where exactly Breastwick was. Was it in the Nor’eastern U.S.? Or maybe in England. It sounded like it could have been England. Minutes into the movie I realized that it was a clever play on that classic The Witches of Eastwick. I felt a little dirty and because I feared I’d hit a button on Tivo that had ordered porn and we’d be charged and Jack would be all, “This is what you watch when I travel?!?” and I’d look like such a liar when I said, “It was an accident,” that I didn’t watch it. For long.

My daughter Amelia found this. She’s been trying for a few days to get me to watch it. Finally, once she cornered me, chained me down, and propped open my eyelids with toothpicks she got her wish. I’m glad she’s such a sadist or I wouldn’t have had such a good laugh this morning. I hope you enjoy.

 

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I kind of hate this guy. 

A lot.

 Do you watch?

You should.

Malcolm McDowell and Sting

 

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I don’t remember when doing nothing took so daggon much time and energy. I don’t seem to have accomplished much, but I’m sure I’ve been busy with something important because at day’s end I am so fracking tired that I pretty much pass out when I cuddle up next to Darth my trusty cpap machine. That or Jack’s slipping some sort of sedative in the distilled water Darth swills throughout the night. I wouldn’t put it past him. Jack’s wiley like that.

I stopped blogging about our vacation with the entire clan because I got tired of hearing myself complain. Also, no one was validating my complaints enough to suit me. I figured that maybe it was only me. Maybe I was blowing things out of proportion, being too eager to board that My Swimsuit Model Sister in Law is Huge Pain in the Ass train, determined to find fault with everything. So yeah, I sort of stepped off that train and decided instead to embrace the crack induced hallucination that aside from the early morning wake up calls and the toys scattered every’forkin’where, and the catered to tantrums, and the overall self-centeredness of a certain tall beauty and her cream cheese family, it was the best. Vacation. Ever. Period.

*ahem* Happy now Jack?!

Then I went to Chicago for a weekend to meet up with the 15 or so women who have lived inside my computer for the past four years. We all had February babies in 2005 (except for the few who decided to go early or late. You know who you are!) and that was our common thread.  I knew it would be a good time because, hey! Chicago!! But what I didn’t expect was the way 15 women could get along so well. We laughed and drank and toured like the tourists we were. Plus? No one woke me up at the ass crack of dawn for the day. Someone, however, did put maxi-pads on my bedroom door. Someone else also woke me and Darth up at 2:00 a.m. with their quietness.  Because they weren’t drunk.  Nuhn, uhn. Not one little bit. That weekend was over way too soon.

And now I’m simply home and being constantly bombarded with a bunch of nothing. So that’s where I’ve been. Here, not here, busy, not busy. Relaxed, but in the same breath, because I am a mother, entirely stressed out.

Most Awesome Niece Ever is here for a few more days and I’m going out of town this weekend. Something must give, people! I… am NOT… a machine.

When vacationing for extended periods of time with lots of family members it is important to schedule activities that involve just your immediate family so you are ensured a few hours every other day or so where you can actually do what’s good for you and yours instead of the collective. That way you can ensure that you don’t have to smile through yet another meal of, “Uh-oh!!! Someone’s not eating his corn! Doh! Aunt Rosie’s gonna eat your corn, Vaughn!” First of all, Aunt Rosie is starting to get a complex. I don’t steal food from the plates of children unless I squz them from my nethers. Second - well, there is no second - just stop saying that, okay? The kid’s gonna have nightmares and start hording food.

Moving on.

We went on an immediate family outing (including my awesome teen niece) today. It was overpriced and a little cheesey, but we had fun driving go carts and bumper cars. I took pictures like we’d never been off the farm before. (Here’s Amy on the go cart and here she is at another angle and - well, she would have been there if you’d bought the digital camera Iwanted. And I don’t know who that is, but there’s Awesome Teen Niece throwing gang signs…. You get the picture. Hehe… picture.) I highly recomending these outings just to reconnect with eachother. That is the point of these vacationy type things, right? We laughed and nudged eachother and told stories that we’ve already told each other a million times, we all spontaneously held hands at one point or another and swung them in time to our gait as we strolled from ride to ride. We damn near burst into song (I’d like to buy the world a home and keep it company.)  I had perma-grin. It was wonderful.

Then we came home and were told to be very quiet because someone had just put her children down for their afternoon naps.

The thing about vacationing with family is that you never know how it’s going to turn out. You have an idea because - well, they’re your family and you know the dynamics, but I don’t think it’s possible to ever know. I spent a month dreading this vacation. Not the gigantic house situated right on the beach. Not the sunsets or my children laughing and wave surfing or digging holes that fill with water from the bottom!   That stuff I was looking forward to. It was the other stuff, the extended family stuff that had me worried.

They aren’t bad people, naturally. When there’s a little bit of space between visits I actually look forward to seeing most of them. This whole week together thing? In one house? Yeah… we probably should have thought it through a little better.  Learn from my pain people. When you are contemplating sharing a house - no matter how huge - for an extended period of time, consider the following.

1) When do the little fuckers wake up? 

It is important to REALLY understand the parents when they say their children are early risers. Define early. Clearly. Early to me and my children is anything before 8 a.m.. Early to my sister-in-law’s spawn is… are you ready for this? I don’t think you are. You should probably sit down. My nephew and niece wake up at 5:40 a.m.. IN THE MORNING! Throw in a time change and you’re looking at 4:40 a.m.. Every morning. On vacation. When it’s the law that you have to sleep in.

2) Quiz your potential vacay partners thoroughly concerning their morning habits. Especially when they claim to be “pretty quiet.”

When someone says, “We’re pretty quiet in the morning,” it’s highly probable that what they’re really saying is, “Compared to a train we’re pretty quiet in the morning,” or “Compared to the roar of a tornado, we’re pretty quiet in the morning.”  Little Niece wakes up with a screech that sends me out of my skin every. morning. At 4:40 a.m. I am convinced someone is killing one of my children or quite possibly a sea gull right outside my bedroom window.  From 4:45 a.m. until about 5:15 a.m. the children start fighting and screaming and the whining (”MOM-meh!!! Shee’s not lissenennnn to yeeeeewwww!”) begins.  And then the running. A-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thumpthump. Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! “Vauuughn. Kennnnnaaaaa. Uncle Jackie and Aunt Rosie are sleeepppppin’. You want some ceeeeeeereal? You want some Caaaaapppp n’ Cruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunch?” Squueeeeeeeee!!!!!!!! A-thump-thump-thump-thump-thumpthump!  Meanwhile Uncle Jackie and Aunt Rosie are suffocating themselves and crying, “For the love of God, will you please take them outside?!”

3) Make sure you really do like their children.

Yes. I’m a hateful, terrible, horrible person. But I don’t really like their children.  Strike that. Their kids are okay. It’s the way they’re being parented that just makes my sphincter pucker.  I have a few parenting pet peeves and the biggest of these few is, “Ooooh nooooo! Mommy, Vaughn’s not eating his beans! Ooooh nooo! You better eat your beans Vaughn because if you don’t Aunt Rosie’s gonna eat them! Don’t you eat those beans, Vaughn! Don’t you daaaaaaaaaaare eat those beans! Don’t you wanna eat your beans, Vaughn? Don’t you want to have hair on your chest and be big and strong, Vaughn? Ahhhhhhh! I’m eating your beans!!!”  Meanwhile Vaughn whines and giggles and scoots down in his chair and turns into a jerky little kid and just soaks in the attention. Eventually he will eat the damned beans but not before I’m ready to shove a fork in his father’s and mother’s eyes.

OH MY GOD!!!! 

 3) Pee on your territory early and often.

We should have hauled ass to get here first because then it would have been “our” house.  The way it turned out Jack’s sister was giving us the grand tour when we got here and pointing out how generous they were to give us the room we have. (Our room has an awesome view of the gulf. Just this evening I sat on my bed and watched six dolphins playing. Very stunning.) Their generosity stemmed from a dark place, however. Our rooms might lead directly to the gorgeous beach, but their rooms are sheltered from the noise of an open house that HAS NO CARPET TO ABSORB THE SOUND OF THEIR CHILDREN SCREAMING AND RUNNING AND FIGHTING AND WHINING AND GIGGLING AT 4:40 a.m..

Headed to Gulf Shores

Jack’s entire family plus us

Outnumbered! Hold me.

 

We’re off for a week at the beach with the clan.  Right now I’m typing as I ride shot gun as Jack navigates the thunderstorms and as Olivia screams about the lost piece of Hubba Bubba she threw at my head.  Good times! I’m thinking that maybe I should have restarted my Zoloft. We hates storms. We hates driving in storms especially in Tennessee because Tennessee’s weather track record? Let’s just say that it seems that the gods are a bit peesed at TN. 

 

Not to be confuzzled with MRI.  My most favorite niece is in town and I’d much rather spend my time boring her with the minutiae of my life in real time than bore you via the beautiful art of the written word sometimes whole minutes after the fact. 

I LOVE my niece. She’s nearly 17 and wonderful and has a bright future ahead of her even though both her parents are total tools.  She’s funny and thoughtful and has a butt ton of common sense (except for that whole being caught in the shower with her boyfriend thing that I’ll cover in the next few paragraphs) - and also, I’m comparing her level of common sense to her parents and also my 3 year old. But still, none of that negates the fact that I ADORE this person. I always have. She’s a straight shooter. Also, she watches my kids when she’s here.

I’m glad she’s here and I’m happy to have her. I’m just not sure of my role in her life because she lives states and states and states away. I would love to have a talk with her concerning that little shower stunt and her vigorous assertion to her father that she and her boyfriend aren’t having sex. Yeah. I’ll wait while you stop laughing and rolling your eyes. I told my dad that too.  I want to talk to her about responsibility and protecting herself (’cause we all know that it’s just safer to assume she and her boyfriend are… um… yeah) and you know, not doing to him until he does to you, but d-yang how’s an aunt supposed to tackle this?

Suggestions?